The magic car
After reading Ejaculantern's story below I felt compelled to write - not cos this story is remotely interesting, but just because it is another example of how school can potentially go so wrong for those who just aren't flavour of the month.

At middle school, as they used to be known in my part of the UK I was more than a little obsessed with a girl. I'll call her Melissa, for that was her name. I spent every English lesson pretty much thinking of her in her netball gear and that time I am *sure* I got a glimpse of her knickers (as they were known at the time).

This obviously meant I spent very little time listening to Mr O'Leary or staring at the small hairy planet that had grown on his face. Sadly, this also meant my work was mediocre at best in English class and when the time came for my middle school to give recommendations to the 'upper' school - I was duly placed in the 'remedial' group. The beauty was, they actually called it the 'remedial class' openly. As if the kids in the class didn't have enough to worry about.

Anyway, as Melissa was in the 'top set' my focus resumed and I began completing essays on time and up to my usual writing standard. It wasn't long before I was called into see Mr Mcgrath - Head of English. He asked me how come I was in the remedial class when I was quite clearly above that standard.

He then gave me the task of writing a short story based upon a flying car (first thing that came into his head apparently), and I had 30 minutes to write it in.

To cut a long story short (as it were) I was moved to the top set the next day and Mr O'Leary received much derision from the teachers. My short story also won the writing competition in school that year. I escaped the remedial class and even took my A/S level English when everyone else were taking their GCSE's.

Trouble is, I was back in the same room as Melissa and once again my pen drooped while my penis stood proud....

Oh well.
(Galahad is out of his gourd on yellow bentines, Tue 18 Aug 2009, 19:01, Reply)